


Fishers of Men

by PBJellie



Series: South Park Kink Meme Requests [3]
Category: South Park
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14150832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: Pip receives a blow job from Damien in the throne room.Written for the South Park Kink Meme.





	Fishers of Men

“Is this real bone?” Pip asked, hand twitching as it touched what appeared to be a cracked tibia. He wasn’t sure. Dying at age ten had essentially stopped his schooling, leaving him alone in the pits while Damien continued his studies. 

He wasn’t sure how many years it had been since he had died, but Damien came back from the surface these nights, stubble creeping down his throat, voice deep and rumbling, and tall. When he came home, he transformed Pip into an adult, or he assumed it was an adult. He did not grow too much, or grow facial hair. He was just a foot or so taller, slim around his waist still, and hair long enough to drawn into a ponytail. 

He was never the one to draw it into the ponytail, it’s was always Damien. 

“Yeah,” Damien shrugged, a tattoo peeking out from his low cut shirt, a crown of thorns with thick black points that curled at the ends. 

“It’s, uh,” Pip stalled, placing his hand back in his lap, “it’s something. Am I allowed to sit here?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Damien dismissed, kneeling in front of the throne. “It looks good on you.” 

“What?” Pip pulled his feet onto the seat, knees tucking under his chin. He had kept the shorts, even in his new body, his night body, at Damien's insistence.

“I’d let you be king,” he growled, scooting closer to Pip. “When I’m king of Hell, you’ll be in this body all the time, and you can sit in the chair whenever.” 

“I don’t know,” he giggled, wrapping both arms around himself. “I’m grateful I get to spend any time with you. I get lonely when you’re gone.” 

“Shh,” Damien hushed, crawling all the way into the seat, getting close enough to touch noses with Pip. They exchanged a few chaste kisses. “I’m here now, right?” 

“Right-o,” he whispered, leaning in for another kiss. When their lips met, Damien pulled Pip’s hands away, placing them on his shoulders. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he choked out, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re so patient with me, Phillip.” 

“Rubbish,” he hummed, dropping his legs back onto the chair on either side of Damien. “Did you have a good day?” 

“It’s been a week,” he groaned, letting his head rest on Pip’s chest, despite considerable height differences. “I’ve been in that God forsaken town for a week.” 

“Was it a nice week?” 

“Kyle invented time travel, then Kenny fucked Cartman’s mom in the past. There was a time loop, and my ass had to fix it. They’re adults, why did they stay in that town? Why not leave? Go anywhere else, literally anywhere else,” Damien complained, nestling into Pip’s chest. 

“I’m sorry you had a bad time,” Pip cooed, hugging Damien a bit tighter. “What would make it better?” 

“I like being with you,” he whispered, voice shaking, “I had to kill someone.” 

“I forgive you,” Pip dug his fingertips into his back.

“I don’t,” he sobbed, shoulders heaving up and down as Pip moved to cradle him. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” he cried, trying to keep his face hidden. 

“You’re only doing your job,” Pip said, wiping a tear off of his cheek. “It’s not a very nice job, but that’s not your fault, love.” 

“I just want to spend all of my time with you,” he keened, relaxing a bit into Pip’s arms. 

“I’m so grateful for all the time we spend together. It keeps me going when you’re gone.” 

“I don’t want to be gone,” he whimpered, clinging to Pip’s shirt. “I just want to be with you. I want to get a house, maybe a dog, a white fence, and we can make spaghetti and not have to sneak around all the time. Craig and Tweek live together in a house in town. They kiss in public and everything, it’s not fair.” 

“I know, I know. One day we’ll get to spend all of our time together; we’ll never be apart,” Pip reassured, though he was fairly certain it was a lie. 

“We don't have much time,” Damien bemoaned, pressing the bulk of his weight into Pip. Reflexively Pip straddled him, ankles locking against his ass.

“It’s okay,” he reassured, though he felt as awful as Damien did about the whole situation. They were not supposed to be dating. It was against the rules, outlawed. Ever since Saddam, dating between humans and demons was not tolerated, actively punished. 

It didn't matter that Damien was half human, that was of no concern to his father.

“I want to taste you,” he interrupted, pulling away, fighting to remove Pip’s legs. “I'm going to suck you off right here in Father's chair, and there's nothing he can do about it.”

“Uh-huh,” Pip agreed, eyes glazing over from the idea. Had he more presence of mind, he would have objected. The danger was too great, too much risk. But Damien was unzipping his shorts, pulling them down his legs and hanging them on an arm bone of some poor dead chap. 

He only nodded when he was pulled by calloused hands to the edge of the throne. His feet dangled above the floor as Damien removed his underwear, pawing at his half hard penis as if it were his job.

“You don't have to,” he gasped as Damien knelt on the floor in front of him. As if Pip were a king and he was about to be knighted. Damien only nodded, an acknowledgement of what he was obligated to do, and what he chose to do on his own volition.

Steadily, a hand worked Pip’s erection. It was somewhat mechanical, like remembering to lock your home after leaving, or washing your hands. There was a certain level of autopilot, as there tended to be on night's Damien was upset. Their sex life had become an old habit, something to take comfort in during times of distress, which was nearly always. 

Damien spent his days in a sort of hypervigilance. Did he look evil enough? Did he sound cruel enough? Were his actions wicked enough? Was this the choice that an demon would make? Was he making a human decision? 

As much as Pip yearned to be alive, he did not envy the position Damien found himself in.

“Honey,” Pip called out, bucking off of the throne into Damien's warm palm, “we don't have to, if you feel so poorly.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, head dipping down into his groin, peppering kisses against his hip bones.

“You’re crying,” Pip protested, though he let him continue touching him. Feather touches snuck under his shirt, tracing along his sides as Damien’s lips languished along his upper thighs.

“It’s okay,” he looked up, tears welling in his eyes. “Just let me make you feel good. Let me make someone feel good.” And with little fanfare, just a curt nod, Damien took him in his mouth, flattening his tongue against the bottom of his cock.

“It feels good just to be around you,” Pip gasped. He tugged at Damiens hair, pulling him down on his dick. “You’re so good.”

Damien moaned around his dick, in agreement, or perhaps in protest, Pip wasn't sure. He was sure, as he yanked his hands upward, that Damien's mouth was hot and wet around him, that he never wanted this to end. 

“You can move,” Damien pulled back, a thin strand of spit connecting the two of them. “Fuck my mouth, I know you like to.”

“Bloody Hell,” he moaned, hips thrusting as Damien bobbed his head, taking him in his entirety, holding eye contact. There was something hungry there, as if he worshiped diligently enough, his sins would be wiped away. Pip looked again, after a bout of thrusting and panting with his eyes closed, and saw something mournful. Broken, even.

“Gonna come,” he whispered, eyes slammed shut as he writhed on the seat. “Damien, you're so good, Damien.”

“Damien,” he shouted, hearing another voice in tandem. He opened his eyes a crack, briefly looking down to take in the sight of his partner swallowing. When he looked up he saw a looming figure in the doorway, red with horns. 

“Damien,” the voice said again, black shorts tied around his waist. “What are you doing?”

Silently, Damien wiped his mouth, turning towards his father, still on his knees in front of the throne, his throne. 

“Fuck,” Pip hissed a whisper, eyes tracing the cracks in the smooth marble on the ground. The cracks snaked their way towards Satan's hooves, did he do that just now? How could he not notice?

“Put your pants on, Phillip,” he snarled. 

“Yes, sir,” he quickly agreed, hopping off of the throne. His shorts became tangled around his legs, causing him to fall, face first into the marble. The floor did not crack for him. 

Damien rushed to help, securing his shorts and turning him back into a ten year old boy. It only made Satan feel larger. More in control.

“This is prohibited,” he roared, stamping the ground. “I told you the consequences of these actions. You can't just think with your dick. You have tasks to complete, a whole world to conquer. You can't be caught up in the mess of a classmate who died at age ten.” 

Pip could swear he heard Damien sob, a choked thing that got caught in his throat. He turned to look at his partner, or his lover, or his childhood friend, it was hard to pin what they were in reality, but instead he just saw a flash of light. 

“Do you like Yahtzee?”


End file.
